Honorable Intentions
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: He knows this isn't a good idea. They're not his and never will be. He's not the kind of man to let a little thing like feelings change his mind...but walking away from these two might be harder than he thought. Mostly canon compliant with a few AU tweaks...beginning in Season One.
1. Chapter 1

Honorable Intentions

It's quiet closer to the water. The people of the camp seldom venture down this far which means, if he's lucky, he will have peace and quiet for a change. He's seen the gratitude in their eyes when he comes back from a hunt with a brace of squirrels slung casually over his shoulder. The few times he's managed a deer, they forgot themselves enough to clasp him on the back. He endures them, giving short nods and noncommittal grunts by way of reply. They appreciate the meat but not the method he uses to provide it. None of them have a clue how to prepare a kill, how to trim meat from skin and bone. So he finds a place where it's just him and the fruits of his labor. These times, he can let down the walls and just be. Let his mind wander while his hands go through the motions by rote.

He makes short work of the squirrels, peeling the skin free and scooping the entrails into a neat pile to be disposed of once the butchering is done. He shakes his head at the waste but these are city folk, not used to doing without. They've learned that things aren't simple anymore. There are no corner markets or delivery services. The only sure thing is that nothing is sure anymore. MREs, canned food, fish, and whatever game he brings in are the only staples they can depend on. If not for that, these upstanding people wouldn't give him or Merle the time of day.

Pebbles shift and roll down the bank a few feet away but he gives no outward sign that he's noticed. His gaze marks out the crossbow lying close by with a bolt nocked and ready. The knife in his fist, though stained with blood and bits of hair, is a formidable weapon in its own right. He gives the surrounding area a brief glance before bending back to his task. It is enough to find the culprit, crouched behind a bush while stealing peeks through the scraggly branches. The dirty blond hair identifies her as easily as the small shrub she hides behind. He can't help but wonder what she's doing down here away from the main body of the camp. The boy who usually shadows her is nowhere to be seen nor is her wisp of a mother, not much bigger than the girl she hovers over.

He eases the knife down and slowly rises before making his way down to the water. A hasty rinse is enough to get most of the muck off. He grabs the rag out of his back pocket and gives them a once over before speaking. Her name swims up from a forgotten place in his mind, a memory of a gentle voice calling her back to their tent for supper. It comes easily to his lips, "You gonna hide behind that bush all evening, Sophia, or are you gonna come over here and help. The sooner we get these done, the faster your mamma can get them stewed up."

The bush shakes as she shifts deeper under cover. He still doesn't turn toward her hiding place. If she comes out, he wants it to be her choice. He bites back a curse as the bush goes still, almost too still. He knows that instinct, has given into it himself. He's seen game do it countless times in a last-ditch effort to avoid detection. He knows what brought about such knowledge in this girl and his gut burns at the thought. He crouches down at the water's edge, both to make him seem smaller and less threatening and to steady his shaking limbs.

"It's up to you," he commented into the silence. "I'm good either way."

He hears more stones skitter down the side as she slides out from under the bush and into view. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she slips closer. She hovers by the rock that he'd used as a table to clean his kills. Her blue eyes widen as they take in the partially skinned remains he'd left lying there. She looks from him to the squirrel and back before drawing a deep breath and stepping closer still. This time, she doesn't stop until she's almost beside him. He settles back on his haunches and watches as she crouches just out of reach. She doesn't speak, only watches him with big, wary eyes.

"Not my place to say so," Daryl muses. "But you don't need to be out here alone. Just cause we haven't seen walkers don't mean they're not around."

"I was careful," she protests stoutly. "I stayed on the path and watched the trees. I didn't hear anything."

"Still don't make it right," he returns.

Her jaw firms stubbornly beneath those pleading eyes. "I was careful."

He chuckles despite his efforts not to. She's a sassy thing; he has to give her that. A bantam rooster strutting across the barnyard. He makes an appeasing gesture in her direction, turning back to his game. "Didn't mean nothing by it. Just saying that you don't need to be out alone."

Sophia snorts under her breath, eyes fixed on the capable movements of his hands as he finishes skinning the squirrel. "I'm not alone. You're here so I'm safe, right?"

He sends her a glare and growls, "Don't twist words with me, girl." She balks, sidling back a few steps. Daryl's fist tightens on the hilt of his knife. "Don't do that. I won't hurt you." Her face shows her doubt but she decides to trust him, for she settles on a low rock and watches him with interest.

She's quiet for the most part so he's able to ignore her as he moves on to the string of rabbits he'd caught in the snare line he'd set a few days ago. He'd decided this morning to shift them more to the south, after the fresher trails. He watches her for a moment, reaches into his pocket for a smaller knife, and lays it on the rock in front of her. She hesitates before reaching for it, her eyes darting from him to the stunted blade. "It's sharp," he muttered. "Be easy with it or you'll lose a finger." He picks up a half-skinned corpse and drops it in her lap. "Cut between the meat and the skin. Take your time. Once you've got the hide off, I'll show you how to finish up."

She flashes a small grin before bending to her chore, deftly maneuvering the small blade. He watches as she mirrors him, feeling a strange sort of pride as the first rabbit is quickly shorn. She's a natural. He plunks another in front of her and huffs out a laugh as she dives right in. She shoots him a smile, using her forearm to push the hair out of her eyes. "This is gross," she observes while carefully cutting the last bit of fur away.

"It's food," he answers. "We have to eat."

She lays the knife down carefully, her blue eyes solemn. "Daddy says that we don't need you and your hunting. He says that we can do just fine on our own."

Daryl shrugs, wiping his knife on his rag before shoving it into the sheaf at his belt. "And what do you think?"

The girl gives a funny little shoulder wiggle, but her eyes don't waiver. "I think you do a good thing. It helps the camp. Nothing Daddy does helps anybody. He sits around all day, grumbling about everybody else but he doesn't do anything." She looks at him expectantly. "I don't want to be like that." She bounces eagerly. "Can I help you?"

He pauses, looking at the girl in amazement. He never expected this. Merle would have his ass for getting involved with the girl. He starts to tell her hell no and not to bother him again but the look in her eye stops him cold. She expects to be told no and to be shoved aside. She's already accepted it. That, more than anything, is responsible for what comes next. "You can help if that will keep your ass out of trouble. Your mamma has to know where you are or this won't work. And if she says no, then that's the end of it. You got me?"

The smile that curves her mouth almost pulls an answering one from him. She leaps to her feet, already scampering up the path as excited words spill forth. "She will. I'll tell her now. Thank you, Mr. Daryl. Thank you!"

He watched her go with something like a knot in his throat. He half-hoped that her mother would tell her no. It would make his life easier. He should have told her himself but he couldn't. He couldn't. Daryl sighed as he gathered up the game to take it back to camp.

A/N I previously posted this story but took it down due to health issues. I've started working on it again and wanted to put it back up. Apologies to those who had it on favorite or alert. Thanks for reading...it's greatly appreciate.


	2. Chapter 2

Honorable Intentions

Chapter 2: Unlikely Friends

Carol Peletier, formerly Caroline Watson, listened to her daughter with half an ear as she eyed the tattered shirt she'd picked up out of the laundry pile. She mentally crossed her fingers as she dropped it into the water and scrubbed it on her washboard. They'd scrounged it from a Cracker Barrel on the outskirts of Atlanta. She'd always thought the restaurant chain was rather kitschy but admitted now that it had come in handy when the world went to hell. It didn't stop her from missing her Maytag though.

The quarry camp was rough but it was a vast improvement over the tangled snarl on the highway. Ed had grumbled but saw sense in sticking with a larger group. When Dale mentioned the quarry, the rest of them had readily agreed. They'd formed a convoy and kept to the smaller roads, thinking that the interstates and bypasses would have garnered the lion's share of the traffic. It added both miles and driving time but had been worth it in the end. Now, they had a perimeter set up, some simple alarms in place, and patrols to guard against uninvited guests.

Carol smiled and flicked an affectionate glance at her daughter, who was still chattering nonstop despite having gone on for the better part of five minutes. It was so good to see the girl happy and excited. There had been very little of that recently. Carol was grateful for every smile and every new tale Sophia came back with. She pulled the shirt out of the bucket, folded it back on itself, and then rubbed it briskly along the washboard. She looked up just as Sophia announced with a lofty air, "That Carl, he's such a dumb head, Mom." She gave a guilty grin at Carol's reproving look but marched on nonetheless. "He was all puffed up proud saying that girls aren't as good as boys because boys can hunt and track and do stuff. He said all girls can do is women's work." She squared her thin shoulders, chin lifted haughtily. "Amy heard him and told him that he would have to eat those words as soon as they got Dale's reels tacked up. Her and Andrea are going fishing soon. She said their dad showed them how."

"She and Andrea," Carol corrected. "And Amy is absolutely right, Sophia. Girls can do anything that boys can do."

The girl nodded stoutly, her honey blonde hair flying about her face. "That's what I told the dumb head. But I decided that telling him won't be good enough so I'm going to show him too. I'm going to learn how to do stuff and help out more than that ole Carl Grimes ever could. Mr. Daryl told me that I could help him. Just you wait, Mom. That Carl won't know what to think when I bring home a whole mess of squirrel. That will show him. See if it won't."

"Daryl," Carol said softly. "Sophia, when did you talk to him? What do you mean he said you could help?"

Her guilty expression was a dead giveaway that she'd said more than she intended. Sophia bit her lip, big blue eyes staring warily up at her mother. "He said that I could as long as you said it was okay," she muttered. "Please, Mom. He promised he'd let me help. If I learn to skin stuff real good, he might show me how to hunt too and then I'll really be able to tell Carl what for. Mr. Daryl said I was good at it. He let me do the rabbits all by myself."

Carol shook her head, even going so far as to tap her ear with the wrinkled pads of her fingers. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd understood what her daughter was telling her. She stared long and hard at the desperate girl. "Sophia Marie, I want you to tell me the truth right now. When did you talk to Daryl Dixon and did that man actually give you a knife and let you skin dead animals?"

Sophia nodded and looked even more woebegone as Carol's jaw hardened. "I just wanted to help," she said. "I wanted to do something so that I could earn my keep. Carl said that I wouldn't nothing but a waste of space."

"And you thought the way to change his mind was to go to a stranger and make him your own personal tutor," Carol blurted out. "Sophia, honey, I know that you mean well but to go bother Mr. Dixon when you know that he and his brother keep to themselves. What…I mean…why would you? And what is your father going to say, Sophia? You know he won't allow this."

The girl's pale eyes flamed and she stiffened even more. "He said he would let me as long as you said it was okay, Mom. You, not Dad, just you." She glanced around hurriedly but lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. "I told him what Dad said about his hunting, about us not needing it."

Carol swallowed noisily but still asked, "And what did he say?"

Sophia grinned, clearly pleased with what she was about to reveal. "He asked me what I thought. I told him that what he does is good and that it helps everybody. I said all Daddy does is drink beer and complain." Carol's brows lifted to her hairline but she stayed silent, hoping the girl would continue. "I don't want to be like that. I want to do my share just like everybody else."

"Sophia," Carol said carefully. "Do you really think this is the best thing? I mean, there are other ways to help, sweetie."

"He's nice, Mom. Quiet. Don't bother nobody. He even started skinning his stuff down here by the water cause he knew some people were squeamish about that stuff. He's not like the other one, Daryl ain't. He's good."

Carol bent back to the laundry, her mind whirling at the idea of her daughter defending the surly redneck whose only interaction with any of them was the mess of field-dressed game he left near the communal cooking area. To find out now that he'd spoken with her girl, and even agreed to help teach her was mind-boggling. A few facts abruptly clicked in her mind. "Sophia, if he was down here then how did you come across him much less talk to him and help him out. You're not supposed to be down here unless one of the group is with you."

"One of the group was with me," Sophia protested. "Mr. Daryl was here too." Her hopeful expression quickly fell as her mother's face tightened. "Yeah, he didn't go for that either. He said I shouldn't be wandering around by myself. I knew he was down here so I followed the trail and hid behind some bushes. He must have heard me because he told me to come out and help him. So I did. Are you gonna tell him its okay, Mom?"

"I'm going to talk to him," Carol hedged. "I'll decide what to do then. If the man tells me that you were pestering him, Sophia, there will be consequences. Just so we're clear. And don't mention this where your daddy can hear. He won't like it."

Sophia huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. "He don't like nothing." Her mother raised a warning brow, causing the girl to drop her gaze to the scuffed toe of her shoes. "Yes, ma'am. I won't go off on my own again."

"That's my girl," Carol ruffled her daughter's short hair.

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The air in the tent was as thick as molasses, the humidity adding an uncomfortable dampness that made everything sticky and close. That was the only word he could use to describe it. Stifling. Like a wet cloth draped over your head. He kicked at the tied back flap in hope of catching even the slightest hint of a breeze. Daryl knew it was stupid to hide in the tent when the sun was still up but considering the alternative, he figured it was the lesser of two evils.

Merle wasn't around when he'd shuffled into camp and dropped the bulk of the game off at the main fire. He'd kept one rabbit and a pair of squirrels for them and left the rest. He took a quick look around before heading for his tent set back away from the others. He knew the gal's momma by sight but hadn't said but a few words to her in passing. The Morales woman took the meat and smiled her thanks. The dark-haired woman, Lori he'd heard her called, had her wayward son in hand for a change and had him bent over a book with a pencil clenched in his teeth.

The boy had taken an interest in his crossbow when they first set up camp. It hadn't taken Daryl long to set the boy straight and send him packing. Better him then Merle. He'd have shown the boy a few tricks that his mama wouldn't appreciate and laughed when the shit hit the fan. Daryl didn't dispute that Merle usually got results, if not the ones he originally intended. Since they had no plans to move on just yet, he told the kid to get lost, threatened to cut his ears off if he caught him around his crossbow, and matched the disapproving glares he got with his best "fuck off" look when the kid went running for cover.

It was one of the main reasons why he was so damned put out over letting the girl get to him. He should have kept his head and told her to leave him be. He should have left her cowering behind that damned bush. Should have or not, he'd gone and stuck his nose where it didn't belong and done was done. She'd surprised him with her refusal to back down once she'd found her footing, jumping right in when he'd thrown out the casual invitation to help. He figured she'd run for the hills, possibly crying. Instead, she'd turned the tables on him and now he was stuck with the possibility that he was stuck with her.

Daryl grunted out a curse before rolling back to a sitting position and pulling the old duffer closer. He pawed through the jumble of stuff until his fingers caught a piece of soft leather. He pushed the flaps as wide as they would go, tilting the bag back and forth until he saw the case wedged underneath a tin of Sterno. He hooked the belt loop near the top and tugged it free. The pliable leather was scuffed and worn but in amazingly fine shape for its age. A quick twist of his thumb undid the clasp and the flap with it. Inside, the dull gleam of bone and steel caught the late afternoon sun.

He pulled the knife free and examined it closely. The bone handle was ridged and grooved to keep it from slipping. The single-edged blade was small and sturdy. It was a sturdy construct, perfect for little hands. Merle had given him the knife for his eighth birthday. It was the first present he'd ever gotten so he kept it long after he'd replaced it with a brother to the one riding on his hip. The blade was pitted and worn but still useable. If this thing was going to be done, then he was damned if it wasn't going to be done right. He took out his whetstone and oil and set to work putting an edge back on the blade.

He'd just made a few passes when a soft step outside brought his head around. Daryl couldn't see much more than a foot and the bottom part of a leg but he knew immediately who it must be. The girl hadn't wasted any time. He edged closer to the flap and bent his head until she came into view. Her eyes widened as they met his, her breath catching in her throat. She sidled back before catching herself, and then surprisingly retook the ground she'd just given as she stepped closer. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Best to let her start. He could pretty well guess why she'd sought him out but decided to let her confirm his suspicions. She looked at him expectantly but when he stayed silent, she shifted uncomfortably. This one, he thought, was about as much of a talker as he was. He settled in to wait her out.

"Mr. Dixon," she said finally after several uncomfortable minutes. "I need…that is…I'm here about my daughter." He shrugged, still watching her closely but not speaking. She swallowed visibly before continuing. "She said that you were going to show her a few things if I was alright with it. Is that true?"

There it was. She was giving him an out if he wanted it. He could take it; say that the kid misunderstood and that he was too busy to play nursemaid to some snot nosed brat. He could walk away with no regrets. The memory of her bracing, already expecting to be shot down stayed his hand. Sophia had trusted him when it came right down to it and he couldn't or wouldn't dishonor that. He sighed and nodded once, his eyes on his boots so that this woman wouldn't see his weakness.

"Girl wants to do her part," he offered gruffly. "I ain't got no problems with that if you don't. I don't want it to cause no trouble." He chanced a look at her face, in time to see the way her face fell as she took his meaning. "You don't need to worry about nothing," he drawled, nodding at the knife in his hand. "I figured this would work for her. It'll work for what she'll need it for."

Carol watched him closely, seeing the way he angled his body to the side. She followed his gaze to the tiny knife and felt her eyebrows go up as she took it in. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand, the blade short and stubby compared to most that she'd seen. The handle was rough and textured, giving it a better grip. She smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness. Clearly, he was planning to do right by Sophia if this was any indication. "She'll like that," Carol told him as she let her smile broaden.

"You sure it's alright," he questioned.

She hesitated then, a storm of indecision making her eyes more gray than blue just then. She understood what he was asking as much as what he wasn't and was weighing her options. He thought she was going to change her mind as her gaze found the child sized knife still clutched in his hand. Something softened and settled in her expression. She gave the same curt nod that he had just minutes before. It almost teased a smile from him before he caught it and pushed it back.

"Fine," he barked more sternly than he intended. "You make sure that she knows not to waste my time. You people want full bellies and I only have so many hours in the day. She needs to be serious about this if it's going to happen. I ain't got all the hours in the day to play nursemaid."

"I'll tell her," Carol affirmed. "She'll be there when you want her, Mr. Dixon."

"Daryl," he corrected. "Just Daryl."

That peek-a-boo smile crossed her face once more. "Daryl," she repeated softly. She turned on her heel to head back to the main camp. She'd gone a few steps and then looked over her shoulder to catch his eye. "Thank you," she gave a funny little nod before continuing on her way.

He watched her go, his heart pounding like thunder in his ears. Two little words from her had almost destroyed the tight rein he had on his wayward feelings. That woman and her little girl stirred something in him that he couldn't define nor explain. He'd heard the emphasis and weight she'd placed on those words. Daryl had no clue why she agreed to this fucked up plan but there was no point in beating it to death. It was done. He picked up the stone and started working the blade. Tomorrow would come soon enough and he would be ready.

End Chapter 2….


	3. The First Step

Honorable Intentions

Chapter 3: The First Step

_To destroy is always the first step in any creation. ~e. e. cummings_

It started out small, little things that most wouldn't notice but she did. Maybe it was because nobody had ever done anything nice for her. Maybe it was because it didn't fit into a neat and tidy box that she could label. Maybe it was wishful thinking. It was never obvious, never something that she could point to. It drove her crazy, wondering and hoping that she was right only to gulp back a fearful thought that she was wrong. Would it be so wrong? What could it hurt?

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Sophia's introduction to the fine art of butchering and preparing game began a few days after their monosyllabic conversation. He showed up just as she filled her bucket with fresh water and dumped in a thimble of detergent, stirring it briskly before settling the washboard into the lee. He gave a short nod by way of greeting and gestured toward a rocky outcrop a short distance down the bank. She returned the nod with one of her own, and sent Sophia running with a flick of her hand. The girl waved madly to her mother before following in the hunter's wake.

Carol watched them go with a curious twist in her belly. Whether or not this was a mistake, she had yet to decide. Surely if Ed managed to put two and two together, there would be hell to pay. And yet, there was every opportunity that Sophia would come out of this stronger and surer of herself. For that, Carol was willing to risk her husband's wrath. It would be worth it if it kept Sophia from ever feeling the fear and helplessness that was burned into her mother's heart.

She couldn't help but smile at his choice of timing. It was almost too perfect. Most of the time, the women came down to the lake together, making a hen party out of the twice weekly laundry sessions. Carol had gotten into the habit of bringing Sophia with her, just the two of them, on odd days just to get away. Strangely enough, Ed let her make these trips alone unlike those with Lori, Jacqui, and the Harrison sisters. Those, he never failed to tag along, sitting on the tailgate of the Cherokee with his beady gaze fixed firmly on her.

Carol could never predict what Ed might do at any given time. She watched for the tells, the hints that would give him away. He wanted her isolated, alone, and dependent on him. He tolerated more than loved Sophia, resentful of the attention that Carol lavished on her. She was his, bought and paid for, and he made sure that she knew it. He never let her forget it.

She worked her way through the pile of clothes, keeping half an eye on the pair further up the shoreline. She let a little chuckle escape as she watched her daughter speak animatedly to the taciturn man. Sophia talked with her hands, gestures getting more elaborate as her excitement increased. Carol's eyes widened as the man plucked the knife from the girl's hand, setting it on the stump they were using as a table and doing some motioning of his own. She couldn't make out the words from this distance, but his sudden increase in volume was enough. She waited anxiously, watching for the slightest hint that Sophia was going to bolt. To her surprise, the girl hung her head and held out her hand. He ran a hand through his hair, head cocked to the side as he pinned the girl with a menacing stare. He then picked up the knife and slapped the hilt into her upturned palm. Sophia gave him an impish grin and bent back to her squirrel.

Carol watched them, her mouth falling open in disbelief. Her timid girl, her Sophia, had managed to shock her mother to her bones. Gone was the quiet, fretful child and in her place was someone Carol didn't recognize. She threaded her fingers through the frail chain at her throat, fingering the cross that hung there. She held on to the charm and gave thanks for whatever power was responsible for sending this man across their paths.

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He couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with the girl. She usually talked a mile a minute.

Today, she stared at her hands, barely looking up when he pointed out a way to remove the pelt in one piece or told her to angle her cuts to get the most meat. She watched him, her eyes following his hands, and then she only nodded before bending back to her work. Something wouldn't right.

He nudged her, giving her a small nod when her gaze flicked up to meet his. "You alright?"

She blew out a breath, tucking wispy strands behind her ears as she studied him. "Fine," she replied shortly.

Daryl hadn't been around kids much but he knew a bald-faced lie when he heard it. He tapped her elbow, almost laughing at the put upon sigh she gave before looking his way. "You sure?" He questioned. "You're too quiet. My damned ears don't know what to think."

An unwilling smile tugged at her mouth but she successfully bit it back. "I was just thinking is all. Thought you'd be happy that I've shut up for a change. You said last time that my talking would be the death of you."

It was his turn to fight a smile. She had him there. "Never you mind what I said. Today, I want to know why you ain't talking." Her face fell, a sudden haze of tears making those big blue eyes shine. Daryl wanted to cuss and throw something. He never meant to make her cry. Fuck. He was in for a penny so he might as well hold out for the pound. She would tell him eventually. He just had to wait her out.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves in her haste to get them out. He nodded reluctantly, motioning for her to continue. Her eyes fell back to the rocky ground, a tear leaking out and tracing a wavering line down her cheek. "Do you believe there's a God?"

He moved uneasily, not sure what she wanted him to say. He bit his lip, feeling his cheeks and ears burn. Fuck. Of all the places she could go, she went there. Damn kid. Damn his stupid ass for asking in the first place. "Do you want the answer I ought to give ya or do you want the truth?"

"The truth," she didn't even hesitate. "Tell me the truth."

He rolled his shoulders, fingering his chin as he avoided meeting her eyes. "I don't know," he said at last. "Never saw anything one way or another to prove if He's there. Never had a reason to think about it. Why, girl? What's that got to do with you?"

She sidestepped his look, turning her head toward the lake and wide expanse of sky. "I don't think He's real," she confided. "He's supposed to be there for the good people. He's supposed to look after them and help if they need it. But there's good people dying and bad people still here. It's not fair." She wiped her cheek with a rough hand. "I tried to talk to Him like the preacher said. Asked Him to help me and my mom. I told Him if He did, I'd do anything. I did too, everything I promised. I cleaned my room, stayed quiet, and even helped with other chores. It didn't change anything. Mom still...he still..." her voice broke as she gulped back more tears. "How could He be real? My mom's a good person. I kept my promise. How could He be real and not help us?"

Daryl looked down at his trembling hands, his voice forsaking him as her words took him back. Back to an eight year old boy following his big brother into the woods because Daddy had come home drunk again. It was better to sleep under pile of dead leaves than to stay there and listen to the shouts and screams from the other room. Back to a scrawny eleven year old pulled out of the closet by his hair, ears ringing from the slap that split his lip and puffed up his cheek. Back to the belt and pipe laid on the table and being told to pick his poison. The way his back went numb after so many licks, blood pooling in the waistband of his pants. Back to a sixteen year old watching as his big brother and the man he'd learned the hard way to hate stood toe to toe as they traded blows.

Merle had come back after a two month stint in jail to find Daryl broken and bleeding in the bedroom they shared. Their bastard of a father caught him with his back turned and broke a bottle over his head before the boy knew he was there. Daryl fell to his knees, arms lifted to protect his head from the old man's steel toed boots. The broken shards of the bottle cut his knees and back as he tried to roll away. He heard the son-of-a-bitch laugh and knew he'd be lucky to be alive once this was done. Merle hit their father like a runaway train, knocking him into the dresser and shattering the mirror above it. Merle didn't waste the opportunity, climbing on top and unleashing hell. Daryl managed to rise to his knees and pull his brother away before he beat the piece of shit to death. He remembered all the times he'd prayed, begging someone to come and take him out of there. Merle had been the only one to answer.

"Sophia," he had to work to keep quaver out of his voice. "Have you ever…."

She was shaking her head before he could finish the thought, blonde hair whipping about her face. "No sir, never. He don't pay me any mind. Mom always sent me to my room. He told me to keep him company once when Momma was going to the store. She got a funny look and laughed and told him not to be silly. After we got back, I could hear him yelling in the kitchen. There was a lot of noise and I was scared. Momma told me never to leave my room when he was mad." Her wretched expression tore at his heart. "He hurt her because I didn't stay. Maybe if I had, he wouldn't have done that."

Daryl's jaw tightened at the thought that the man would have done worse if given the chance. Her mother had protected her the only way she could. "You can't think like that," he growled. "Don't take blame for something you can't change. Your momma knows what she's doing."

Sophia mulled that over as she swept the mess of entrails into a neat pile and set them aside. "He won't like it, me being here. He won't let us come back if he finds out, will he?"

Daryl shrugged, deciding to deal with it directly and not duck the question. She knew the truth and any attempt on his part to get around it would undo the fragile thread that bound them together. He didn't know why it mattered so much. She wasn't anything to him and it shouldn't matter if she didn't come around anymore. It shouldn't and yet it did. "Probably not." He cringed inside as a mournful expression contorted her face. Before he knew what he was about, his hand lifted and playfully tugged her hair. She looked up at him startled, her blue eyes wide and questioning as they pierced him. "Don't worry, alright? I won't let nothing happen to you or your momma."

Hope flared briefly in her eyes before it blinked out like a light. "You can't be there all the time."

"Then get on back to your mamma, girl," he snapped. "You either want to learn or you don't. I told her I won't waste my time."

Sophia started back at his harsh words. "I want to learn," she stammered. "I just don't want Mom to get in trouble for me."

"I told ya I'd watch out for you and your mom," Daryl repeated. "We'll figure something out."

She couldn't hide the doubt edging her expression but there was something else that caused his heart to clinch in his chest. Trust. She took him at his word. Somehow, someway he had to find a way to keep it.

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A few days passed, and then a few more. Some days, he wasn't there and some days neither were they. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't see him. It might be out of the corner of her eye as she followed Sophia about the camp. It might be at dinner when the group huddled around the fire, speaking in low voices about whether it was worth their while to go back into Atlanta. He stood at the edge of the light, behind his mountain of a brother, watching in the quiet way of his. Their eyes met briefly before his danced away, listening to every word and weighing every argument.

They opted to make a run, sending a group out for the first time. The young man, Glenn, would go since he knew the way. T-Dog, as he called himself, also volunteered. Jacqui and Andrea decided to tag along as did Morales. There was some excitement when Merle Dixon announced his intentions to make the trip. Carol watched Daryl from the corner of her eye, noting the way his fists clenched at his side. He stayed silent, letting his brother work it out. Daryl shook his head when asked if he wanted to go, mumbling something about hunting. Most missed the brief glance he tossed in her direction but Carol didn't.

That look confirmed a suspicion she'd had for the past couple of days. First, there was the extra meat she found when it was her turn to make breakfast. Then there was the sack of herbs, berries, and tubers that tasted like a potato when roasted in the coals. There was also a thick, coarse root in the bag that when put in water, created a soapy lather. She discovered that by accident, and couldn't help but laugh. Soap wasn't high on their supply list. It was nice to find an alternative. The biggest surprise was the red toothbrush, still in its packaging, that found its way into her hands.

She glanced toward him as the group broke up, the ones going to Atlanta heading toward their tents to get ready. To her surprise, his blue eyes were on her although they flicked away almost as soon as she looked up. She felt Sophia's fingers twine with hers and smiled down at the girl watching her with a solemn expression. Carol started to speak but cut off as a rough hand grasped the back of her neck. She felt more than saw Ed giving the younger Dixon a baleful look before his gaze swung back toward her. "I need to get a list together," she smiled and ducked her head. "It'll be easier with a group for them to pick up some extras."

"You keep your mind on your business," he warned. "Get your ass to the tent and stay there. We don't need nothing from these ingrates. Take her with you. I don't want to see you out wandering around."

"Come on, Sophia," Carol put a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Let's go, honey."

The pair headed for their tent at the edge of the clearing, heads almost touching as Carol whispered reassuringly to the girl. She felt his eyes on her, on them, as they walked away, feather light and fleeting. She resisted the urge to look back, knowing that Ed would be watching her like a hawk. The back of her neck burned, feeling those cool blue eyes on her again. She shivered involuntarily, but managed a smile as Sophia gave her another worried look. "It'll be alright, sweetie. Come on, let's go make our list." Hand-in-hand, they ducked into the blue canvas tent.

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His fingers slid carefully along the bolts, checking the nocks and fletching before thumbing the tips. His eyes followed Merle as his brother checked his pistol before tucking it into the waistband of his pants. A Bowie knife was pulled out and examined, the edge gleaming as he tested it with his thumb. He hissed out an oath and then tucked it into the sheath at his hip.

"Keep your mind on your own business, lil brother," Merle ordered as he pinned Daryl with a knowing stare. "Don't get your ass into trouble while I'm gone. Ole Merle can't be here to watch over you every second. I got places to go and things to do."

"Fuck off," Daryl retorted. "I know exactly what you've got to do."

Merle grinned, his hand riding the butt of his gun. "These fuckers don't know how to handle things. Best if somebody who knows how to give orders is along for the ride. Who better than me?"

"Who better than you," Daryl echoed. "Just make sure you make it back, bro. Don't get your dumb ass into more trouble than you can handle."

The cocky chuckle he got in response brought an unwilling smile to Daryl's face. "Trouble is what I do best, baby brother. Don't doubt that." He looked up into a pair of ice-cold eyes fixed on him. "You, however, are about to get your bony ass kicked the way you're eyeballing that woman and her pup. Her piece of shit husband ain't too bright but you ain't being subtle. Neither is she."

"I wouldn't eyeballing nobody," Daryl protested weakly. "You're fucked in the head, Merle."

He didn't have a chance to avoid the fist that connected with his chin. Daryl spat a bright stream of blood and knuckled his split lip before rolling into his brother's knees, trying to take him down. Merle's boot hit him in the gut, driving the air from his lungs. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Darylina. I ain't time for your hissy fits right now. You just do what I say and leave the mouse and her kit be. Don't go dipping your pen in another man's well."

"Never stopped you," Daryl muttered.

Merle laughed loudly and ruffled his hair. "You ain't me. Now do what I say and not what I do, baby brother. You'll live longer." He slapped him playfully on the back of the head before making his way out of the tent.

Daryl stared after him, daubing his lip with the rag from his back pocket. Fucking asshole had a point. Still, he'd given his word to that little girl. He wasn't about to break it despite what Merle had to say on the subject. He tasted metal and spat out a bloody mouthful before crawling out of the tent. Fucking prick. He'd go hunt and then he'd sort out how to make this work.

End chapter 3…


	4. Chapter 4

Honorable Intentions

*This chapter contains scenes of spousal abuse…

Disclaimer: Don't own The Walking Dead…just playing in the sandbox. Please don't sue me.

Chapter 4: To Make a Connection

When you feel a connection, a gut connection, a heart connection, it's a very special thing~ Alfre Woodard

The group left for Atlanta that morning with the sun. Glenn, the Asian kid, wasn't thrilled to be an ad hoc team leader, preferring to go at it alone. He reluctantly agreed to guide them to the department store and scout around while the others gathered what they could. Everyone put together a wish list and then gave it to Jacqui and Andrea to whittle down to something manageable. Morales assigned pairs so that nobody would be wandering around on their own in the walker infested city. Merle nodded agreeably as the plan was laid out, but the look he shot Daryl before they loaded into the cars said as clearly as if he'd spoken, that the older Dixon was only going along to get along. If there was anyone giving orders, then it was going to be Merle Dixon.

Daryl didn't envy the others. His brother was a handful at the best of times. One glimpse of his eyes, feverish and hazed, was enough to tell Daryl everything he needed to know. Merle was high as a kite and bent on having things his own way. There was trouble coming and it had Merle's name written all over it. Daryl hesitated, the urge to give warning on the tip of his tongue. He shook his head angrily, his hands worrying the strap angled across his chest as he watched them roll out. It was a stupid thought and Merle would kick his ass if he interfered with what his brother had planned.

Merle would most likely to spill the beans about their earlier plan to join up with the group for no other reason than to rob the camp blind. He'd whispered for Daryl to wait until they came back before trying anything. Merle was convinced that without him there to back Daryl up, the younger Dixon would fuck the thing up royally. Daryl shrugged it off, secretly pleased that the fool notion was being set aside in lieu of the Atlanta trip. The group wasn't necessary for their survival. Merle pointed out at least once a day that the group needed them more than they needed the group. Despite the truth in that, he was reluctant to go off and take their chances. Especially now.

He automatically sought the two of them out, making sure they were alright before he headed into the woods. The woman was at her tent, bent over a shirt with needle and thread in hand. She was wholly absorbed in her task. Satisfied, Daryl continued toward the tree line, his eyes sweeping the camp for a glimpse of a familiar blonde head. He darted a look back toward the Peletier tent, hoping that he'd missed her but there was no sign of the girl.

He marked out Lori Grimes, hovering over her boy as he read one of Dale's ragged books. She glanced up as she caught sight of him, brows raised questioningly. Daryl didn't act as though he'd noticed, continuing his steady trek toward the woods. He swung wider, rounding the RV so that the cluster of tents following the arc of the clearing came into view. Miranda Morales gave him a friendly nod that he returned absently before she turned back to a pan of water steaming over the fire. There she was. Two girls were huddled together, their heads almost touching as they passed a rag doll back and forth between them. Sophia looked up and grinned as she met his gaze. Having noticed, the Morales girl also smiled and even went so far as to wave before she bent back to their game. Daryl eased his crossbow over his head, bringing the weapon to hand as he walked swiftly toward the trees. The sooner he left, the sooner he'd return. He heard his name and turned back in time to see her come flying toward him across the grass.

"What the hell, gal? Whatcha doin?" He squinted at Sophia, noting the Morales woman had made no move to stop the girl's mad dash across camp.

Sophia skidded to a halt before him, her blond hair flying about her face and her breath coming hard. "Can I go? You're going hunting, right? Let me come," she panted.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Sophia," he began. "Look." He shifted his bow back to his shoulder, mouth a thin line as he tried to keep his expression clear. "I can't take you out with me. You ain't ready."

Her face took on a mutinous expression as she met him glare for glare. "I won't ever be ready unless I learn. Cutting up rabbits is one thing but that won't help me if Walkers get into camp."

"You stick close to the tents," he ordered tersely. "There's enough people around to keep you safe so long as you stay where you're supposed to be. Don't be wandering off like that idiot boy."

They eyed each other as silence fell between them. "You said you'd watch out for us," she reminded softly. "You said you'd teach me if I wanted to learn."

"I never said a damned word about taking you out with me," he barked roughly. "It's one thing to gut squirrels and skin rabbits. It's not the same as dodging walkers and having to move quick and quiet. You don't know what you're asking."

She crossed her arms trying to look surer of herself. "I know it's not the same," she insisted. "I still want to go."

"Why?" he challenged. "What good's it gonna do ya? Nothing out there but dirt and blood."

"I don't want to be afraid anymore, okay!" She shouted vehemently. She clapped a hand over her mouth but the words were already out. There was nothing she could do to take them back. Her eyes rounded over her hand, staring up at him wide-eyed as a colt on its first legs. She dropped her hands, an eerie calm settling over her. She'd accepted that she couldn't undo it so she let it go. "I'm afraid," she stated clearly and succinctly. "If they come up here, I don't stand a chance. I can't fight them off and I can't take care of myself if I run. What else am I supposed to do?"

He wanted to argue, to tell her that it was possible to survive on her own if she had to. He had when he was a kid. Nine days he'd wandered alone in the woods with not a soul looking for him or caring if he lived or died. He finally made it home, only to find the old man passed out on the couch and Merle off some place, either high or in jail. He knew better than anyone how she felt. "You stay close," he muttered as he spun on his heel and stalked away. "I don't want to hear any whining about being hot or thirsty or nothing else. You wanted to do this. It's on you if you can't keep up. I'm not gonna baby you." He paused long enough to catch the Morales woman's eye, waving a hand to show that the girl was coming with him. She shook her head wonderingly but waved back, the two of them already forgotten. "Hopefully, she'll tell someone where you're at if they come looking," Daryl commented sourly.

"She knows that I've helped you most days," Sophia answered brightly. "The only one who would ask is my mom and she won't mind." Her bemused expression gave him pause so he stopped and looked at her expectantly. "Momma trusts you," she confided. "She said spending time with you would be good for me."

Daryl didn't know why those bits of news made him want to laugh and cuss all at the same time. She trusted him, did she? He snorted under his breath but continued walking without further comment. If Merle could see him now, he'd never hear the end of it. Darylina would become more than an occasional taunt to get a rise out of him. He'd probably have to break the son-of-a-bitch's nose to get him to quit.

"Let's go. We're gonna lose the light if we hang around here all day," he rasped, unslinging his crossbow as he made for the tree line. "You stick close. I ain't got time to be looking for you if you get yourself lost."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Sophia returned in an exasperated tone. She stomped after him, muttering to herself. Daryl kept walking, but a smile briefly touched his lips as the words "stupid jerk" reached his ears. She definitely had spunk, that's for sure. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to the surprise he'd made up with her in mind.

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She couldn't contain the smile nor keep from skipping with every other step. The girl had a pair of squirrels tied with a length of sea grass string slung over her shoulder. Her hair clung to her neck and forehead in sweat matted clumps and she was muddy from head to toe. Her smile beamed out brighter than the lowering sun though, and her hands lovingly cradled the slingshot he'd given her.

Daryl thought long and hard before going that route. Sophia was a natural with a knife and didn't shy away from blood, despite her fragile appearance. It was different when the dead thing you were cutting into was intent on making a meal of you and not the other way around. She shied away from guns, covering her ears when one was fired close by. Time and familiarity would take care of that, but not her instinctive fear of it or rather the noise it made. Anything loud caused her to draw back, wide-eyed and pale. The first time he saw it, Daryl had to stop himself from taking his fist to her so-called Daddy. He knew what made the girl so easy to spook. He knew it all too well. The slingshot had been the simplest compromise.

He chose oak for its strength and durability, knowing from experience that the wood would hold up well. Daryl chose a branch with a natural fork just the right distance for what he intended. He tucked it close to the fire to draw out moisture and cure the wood. He poked through all the junk he and Merle carted about but couldn't find what he needed. The next best option was the RV. The old man, Dale, somehow managed to have a bit of everything in the cupboards and hideaways of his dilapidated vehicle. He approached warily, side-eyeing the man as he voiced his needs. "I need a length of tubing, something that is flexible and won't break. An old inner tube would work best but there ain't nothing like that around. You got anything?"

Dale rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pushing that stupid hat back off his forehead. "I believe I might have something you can use. Give me a minute." He disappeared into the RV, muffled thumps and bangs wafting out as he rummaged through the cabinets. "Aha," he crowed, reappearing a moment later with a small roll tucked under his arm. "Thought this might still be in there. I picked it up at a hardware store some time back. The clerk said it worked well for making lures and gigs. I've never had much luck with it but there you go." He handed it over but hesitated, his blue eyes keen beneath the brim of his cap. "Here," he proffered his other hand in which rested a worn leather belt. Daryl's brow furrowed as he looked from the belt to the man and back. "Use that for the pouch. It's old but still in good shape. It should work."

Daryl huffed out a laugh, somewhat amused that the old man had followed his train of thought so easily. He took the belt and tucked it into his pack along with the roll of tubing. "Appreciate it," he muttered. "I won't use much. You'll have the rest back before dark."

"Take what you need," Dale waved him off. "It's good thinking on your part. It won't stop anything big but will give the kids something to protect themselves. Let me know if you need anything else."

Daryl didn't correct Dale's assumption that he was going to make enough for every kid in the camp. He gathered up the rest of what he needed before heading into the woods. The pieces went together easily enough. He scooped up a few acorn husks to try it out, aiming for a gnarled knot on a nearby hickory. The cap met the bark with a muffled thud, before bouncing into the leaves and out of sight. He tested the bands, pulling and twisting them this way and that. They held true, sliding easily in the notches he'd carved in the forks. He nodded satisfied and tucked the slingshot into his pack.

"You did good," he complimented. "Real good. Just make sure that you keep it on you all the time."

She beamed back at him, hiking her shoulder to draw his attention to the squirrels. "Can we clean these before going back to camp? That Carl…he won't know what to say. I'll bet he never hunted anything in his life."

"Hold on," Daryl admonished. "We'll clean them down where I always do. I'll drop them off with the rest of the stuff. You have to tell your mom where you've been. She might be ready kick both of our asses."

"I told you that she won't," Sophia grumbled, giving him a withering look over her shoulder. "She told you it was okay to show me this stuff."

Daryl blew out an irritated breath, tossing her glare right back at her. "She said you could help me, not go rambling off into the woods. Either way, it don't matter if Carl has ever hunted. We ain't doing this to one up that punk. Got more important things to worry about, girl."

They forded a creek, stopping in the shallows to scoop up a few handfuls of rounded stones at the waterline. "These are best because they're smooth," he told her, holding it up so she could see it clearly. "Next time somebody goes to town, I'll tag along and try to round you up some marbles. Aggies would work best but they're hard to find. They give you a little more heft than creek rock will. Even the rocks might be enough to slow down a walker if you're careful about your aim."

She nodded eagerly, her rapt gaze intent on the weapon in her hand. "So I could get away if I needed to and be able to get food. That's great. Thank you, Daryl." Impulsively, she spun and wound her arms about his middle. His breath left him in a rush, frozen at the unexpected embrace. Slowly, gently, he patted her back with his free hand before easing free. "I'll be careful. I promise. I won't lose it or let anybody else fool with it." Her big blue eyes looked up at him solemnly.

He didn't answer, just gave an acknowledging nod and motioned for her to follow him. Ahead, they could see the glint of the lake through the thinning trees. He angled toward a worn path that would take them right to the water's edge. It should be deserted this time of day. They could clean up, get the game ready for cooking, and let her get in a bit of target practice before heading into camp.

They heard the others before they saw them, a jumble of raised voices that carried clearly across the water. Daryl gestured for Sophia to follow and broke into a slow jog. It wasn't likely that walkers had made it up this far without detection but in a world where the dead rose up to feed on the living, anything was possible. The first thing he saw was an old faded yellow Cherokee with the back hatch up. His gaze darted around the clearing, searching for the source of the noise. There. At the water's edge, three or four of them were clustered together like a gaggle of geese.

Sophia whimpered behind him, pulling his head around to give the girl a questioning look. Her face was pale with wide, worried eyes and her lips thin and white. Her hands shook as they clenched tightly around the haft of the slingshot. "What the fuck?" He questioned sharply. Before she could answer, a loud voice broke over them like thunder.

"You don't tell me what! I tell you what!" Ed Peletier screamed at the diminutive woman cowering before him. He batted the other women aside like flies and landed an open-handed slap to Carol's face. Her head reeled from the blow, her hand coming up automatically to cradle her battered cheek. She was swiftly pulled away by the blonde girl, Amy, who tried to assess the damage. Carol waved her away, turning back to the ensuing fight as Ed bulled his way past Miranda Morales and reached for her again.

Daryl spun toward the girl who stood frozen in her tracks as she watched the scene below unfold. Tears made muddy tracks down the girl's cheeks but she didn't make a sound. It made his blood boil to think about how many times she had seen this display. He hesitated, not wanting to leave her here but also not willing to bring her any closer than they already was. He knew he couldn't send her back to camp alone. Fuck. He caught a glimpse of Shane headed toward the women at a lope with his gun already in hand. Carl trailed along behind, his eyes huge saucers in his thin face. "Sophia, go to Shane," Daryl ordered. "Go on." She looked at him blankly, pulling a muffled curse from him as he bent down in front of her. "Go on, gal, and do what I told you. I can't leave you here and I won't let you go down there. Go on. I'll be right there after I get your momma."

"You won't let him hurt her anymore, will you?" She whispered.

He shook his head, a lump tightening his throat. "No, I won't. Now go on."

She took off toward the deputy at a run, her feet flying over the rough stones. Shane saw her coming and stopped, a hand lifting to shade his eyes. Daryl dropped everything but his knife and took off at a run toward the milling group. The women were still shielding Carol from that fucking prick. He continued to yell taunts and curses as he tried to shove his way through. Her head snapped around as another blow connected with the side of her head muffled by the sound of Ed's mocking laughter. The fucker never saw him coming as Daryl hit him full force from behind and sent him sprawling.

The bastard went to his knees in the rocky soil, his breath leaving him in startled rush. Daryl didn't stop, kicking the downed man viciously in the ribs with a booted foot. "Sorry fucking son-of-a-bitch," he spat furiously. "How does it feel, asshole? Do you like that?" Another kick to the ribs was followed by a jab to his face that brought a stream of froth-flecked red pouring from Ed Peletier's smashed lip and nose. The man mumbled in mushy, rounded syllables but Daryl paid him no mind as he waded back in with fists flying. Another punch pulled the man's head around roughly, blood splatter dusting the rocks at his feet. Ed's knees buckled, one eye swollen shut while the other stared blurrily at the furious hunter stalking toward him.

Daryl palmed his knife, sunlight dancing along the razor-sharp edge as he grabbed a handful of lank hair and forced the man to meet his eyes. "You better listen good, you fucking piece of shit, cause I'm only going to say this once. Touch her again and I'll gut you. I'll cut you up and feed what's left to the walkers. I don't give a damn what rights you think you have, but they're done. Starting now, you ain't shit to her or the girl. Blink in their direction and I won't stop next time. I will not stop. You understand?"

"Yeesh," Ed stammered, weaving drunkenly as Daryl released his hold and stepped back. The man wobbled before kneeling in the dirt, head lolling.

Daryl suppressed the urge to hit him again. Instead, he went to the place where the women stood, the other two examining the rapidly darkening bruise on Carol's face. Her red rimmed blue-gray eyes locked on his the minute he came into view. Her face suffused with fiery color, darkening the already massive bruise riding high on her cheek. As her eyes fell, so did his heart…right to the floor. He couldn't stop himself from ghosting a finger over the mark, mouth tightening as she winced. "You alright?" He asked softly. She nodded, still staring fixedly at the dusty toe of her sneakers.

"Sophia?" Her query was muffled by the sopping wet shirt Amy gently tucked into her jaw line.

"I sent her to head Shane off," Daryl returned. He jerked his head toward the younger Harrison sister. "Can you take her back to camp? I need Shane's help here." She nodded briskly and walked swiftly to where the volatile deputy hovered with his two young charges. Amy gathered them up with a smile and led them toward camp, Sophia peering over her shoulder until they rounded the bend and disappeared from view. "Will you take Carol back and stay until I get there?" Daryl gave the Morales woman a sideways look. "Make sure she keeps something on her face."

Miranda nodded her assent, putting a supporting arm around Carol's waist. "Wait," Carol entreated. She untangled her arm and wobbled back to where a visibly frustrated Daryl stood waiting. "What are you going to do with him?"

He glared at her before he could rein it in, his tone harsh and bitter as he answered. "Does it matter? Do you give a damn after all of this?"

Her back straightened, her chin lifting despite the pain that flickered across her face at the movement." It's not him that I'm worried about. He deserves what he got and more besides. Don't do anything that you'll regret, Daryl. Not on my account."

"I promised the girl I'd watch out for you," he retorted. "He won't bother you again."

Something shifted in her eyes as she looked at him. Unbelievably, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She gave him a short, sharp nod and walked away without as much as a glance at the prostrate form of her husband.

Shane dropped a hand on Daryl's shoulder as the women eased away, his other hand riding the butt of his gun. "Can't say that this sack of shit didn't deserve what you gave him," Shane commented. "Thought you were gonna beat him to death." He kicked some loose gravel in the fallen man's direction, a sneer adding an ugly curve to his lip. "If anybody ever deserved it, he does. Well, this is the last straw. I say we cut him loose and send him on his way with a clear understanding that if he shows back up, we won't be so nice the next time around."

Daryl nodded in agreement, his mood suddenly lighter despite the throbbing in his hands. He jerked his head toward the pathway winding up the hill. "Let me grab my stuff and we'll send his ass packing." He sprinted back to the spot where he'd left his crossbow and game, slinging them over his shoulder. Shane had the sack of shit on his feet by the time Daryl made it back. He stepped closer until they were practically nose to nose. "We'll drive you back to camp," he growled. "Patch you up and give you enough food and water to last for two days. I figure with a full tank of gas, that'll be enough. You hit the highway and just keep going, asshole." He noted that Shane had shifted to add his glare to the menacing one Daryl wore. "I meant what I said. They're off-limits. When you go, just keep going. There's nothing for you here."

It took both he and Shane to get the barely conscious man into the back of the Cherokee. Shane slammed the tailgate and gave Daryl an appraising look. "So you planning on becoming a family man now?"

Daryl's hand tightened on the hilt of his knife. He squinted at the deputy, trying to gauge whether the man was on the level or being a shithead. "She deserves better," he grumbled. "They both do."

Shane seemed to accept the noncommittal answer, shrugged and then slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. He tossed Daryl a half-smile as he climbed into the passenger seat and angled to the side to keep an eye on their cargo. "I think there's gonna be some changes when the rest get back from Atlanta," he announced.

Daryl flicked a glance toward Shane but didn't answer. He knew that things would be different from now on. He rubbed a thumb over his battered knuckles and tried to think about anything except what those changes might be.

End part 4…


	5. Scar Tissue

Honorable Intentions

Chapter 5: Scar Tissue

"_When I press my forehead to his back, the shape of his pain is alluring, almost visible. It forms him, tells him to protect himself, makes him everything he is. He needs to keep it." ― Brenna Yovanoff_

The skin was stretched taut over her cheek, hot and tight beneath her fingers. She could still feel the blow, the roughness of his palm followed by the whip crack that snapped her head around. She tasted copper and salt as her flesh split, sending a warm stream trickling down her throat. The next few minutes were a blur, a confused jumble of images and emotions that she didn't have the strength to untangle. She let herself be led away, like a child trailing after her mother, as Miranda Morales slid a supporting arm around her waist and steered her toward the camp. She put one foot in front of the other by rote, her mind an unruffled pond too deep and remote to register the day's events. Two things were clear, her husband had put his hands on her again and Daryl Dixon had stepped in like an avenging angel to stop it.

As they entered the camp, Sophia immediately came running and wound her arms around her mother's waist, sobbing into her shirt. "We heard the shouting but he wouldn't let me get close. He told me he'd get you, momma. Are you okay? Is Daryl coming? Are you alright?"

Carol laughed, earning a startled look from the others who noticed the bruise riding high on her cheek. She winced, covering her swollen jaw with her hand, but couldn't contain the laughter bubbling out of her. "I'm fine, baby. I'm okay, Don't you worry." She knelt, pulling Sophia into a loose hug. "Don't you worry," she repeated in a fierce undertone, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of her little girl's hair…a mix of lavender and sunshine.

"Carol," Miranda's gentle voice interrupted the moment. "We need to get something on your face."

She gave her daughter a reassuring smile before allowing the woman to pull her toward one of the lawn chairs sitting before the RV. Carol eased down, letting the aches and pains clamoring for her attention finally come to the fore. Her side throbbed and her jaw kept time with her pulse beat. They didn't have ice but Miranda scrounged up a cool cloth and tucked it gently into Carol's hand. "Thank you," Carol murmured. A kind pat on her shoulder was her only answer, allowing Carol a moment to gather herself. When the Cherokee pulled into camp a few moments later, she was able to keep her fear and disgust from her face. It didn't stop her heart from skipping a few beats when he rolled out of the passenger seat and moved purposefully toward the back with his crossbow unslung.

The others, who were unaware of what had happened down by the water, gasped audibly as Ed's prone form was pulled rudely from the back of the truck and shoved in the general direction of the tent. Daryl stood guard as Shane made his way to the RV for the rudimentary medical kit they'd scraped together. He gave Carol and the others a reassuring nod before hurrying back the way he'd come. As Ed ducked out with a bundle in hand, Shane shoved the kit into his chest with a low-voiced order to clean up his face. Ed shot her a venomous look, but took out a bundle of gauze and gingerly wiped at his bleeding lip.

Sophia knelt by her mother's side, her eyes wide and wondering. "Did Daryl do all that?" She asked in an awe filled whisper. Carol put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, not knowing what to say. The girl shouldn't see her father beaten and bloody but he'd never had the same concern about her seeing her mother that way. The irony wasn't lost on Carol, but she chose to ignore it. Sophia's gaze moved from the unfolding scene to her mother's concerned face. She touched Carol's swollen cheek softly. "I won't say that I'm glad he did it," the girl whispered. "I know it's wrong to be happy but I am. He hurt you, Momma. I couldn't help you but I'm glad somebody did."

Carol sucked in a breath, her heart heavy at the latent guilt in her girl's tone. "Sophia, baby, don't do that. You're a child, a smart and beautiful girl, but still a child. I won't tell you that you're wrong to feel the way you do but don't let it take you over. I don't hate your father. I hate what he did and I wish that you didn't have to see it but I don't hate. I wish you wouldn't either."

"I'll try, Momma," the girl promised. "I will but I don't want him to hurt you anymore. Can they make him stop? Can't he just go away and leave us here?"

Carol winced as she pressed the cloth too hard against her battered cheek. Could she promise her girl such a thing? It certainly looked like that's exactly what Shane and Daryl had in mind but that didn't mean that Ed would go quietly. The man was a coward at heart, a tyrant who thrived on having power over something smaller and weaker. He wouldn't give them up easily, nor would he forget that she'd walked away from him without a backwards glance. He would make her pay one way or another if he could. "I don't know, Sophia. I don't know what's going to happen but we're going to be okay no matter what. I promise you that. We will be fine."

"Damned right," a gravelly voice broke in, pulling Carol's head around in surprise. "I told you I'd take care of it, girl." She looked up into a pair of guarded blue eyes watching her intently. Carol looked past him to where her husband was tossing his pack into the Cherokee while Shane topped off the tank. Ed caught her eye, his look positively murderous. She recoiled, her hand tightening on the cloth, pulling another wince from her. Muttered oaths made her look up, seeing that Daryl had witnessed the exchange. "His sorry ass is asking for another beating," Daryl growled, hand tightening on his crossbow. "Don't let him bother you. He's leaving as soon as he gets his shit together."

"What?" Carol stuttered. "He's leaving? But how did…who?"

He raised a brow at her tone, turning his body to the side and looking at her from the corner of his eye. "He's leavin," he repeated. "I made it clear what would happen if he bothers you or your girl again."

She couldn't stop the tears that welled up, or the stupidly grateful expression she turned his way. His face flamed, a dull red climbing from the collar of his shirt to his hairline. He fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot as he avoided looking directly at her. "I don't know what to say," she mumbled. "I can't…"

"Don't," he interrupted, wide-eyed and red-faced. "Just don't. It ain't nothing. Just don't." He stepped away hurriedly, still avoiding her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something; anything but it was Sophia that brought him up short.

Her daughter darted after the man, her hand catching his arm and bringing him to an abrupt halt. "Thank you," she told him softly. An uncertain smile briefly quirked his lips up before he blanked his expression. He gave her a curt nod and shrugged off her hand before heading back the way he'd come.

Carol watched with interest as both he and Shane flanked Ed Peletier and hurried him into the cab. She couldn't hear what was said but the stiff set of Daryl's shoulders and the cold glare Ed turned in her direction spoke volumes. "Let that be the last time you lay eyes on her if you want to keep your fucking eyes," Daryl rasped loud and clear. Carol's jaw dropped as the color faded from Ed's face before he cranked the engine and slammed the truck into gear. She watched in disbelief as the Cherokee pulled out and disappeared in a cloud of dust with Shane's Jeep following closely behind.

Daryl spared her and Sophia a look before he headed back down the path toward the water. Sophia made as if to go with him, but stopped to look uncertainly at her mother. "Go ahead, baby," Carol murmured. Sophia tossed her a thankful grin and ran to catch up. Carol held her breath, waiting for him to send the girl away. Instead, she bit her lip to keep a smile from breaking free as he merely tilted his head, motioning for Sophia to come on already.

"He's good for her," Miranda said softly at Carol's side. "And she's good for him." She replaced the cloth with a fresh one and laid a gentle hand on Carol's shoulder. "The others should be back soon. I think we'll get supper ready, yes?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Carol smiled and climbed gingerly to her feet. "They'll probably be hungry."

The two chatted amiably as they lit the tiny camp stove and began preparations for the evening meal.

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The return from Atlanta didn't exactly go according to plan. The Korean kid, Glenn, came burning up the dirt road in a wailing banshee of a muscle car and shrugged when Shane asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. The box truck following behind held a few other surprises, not all of them entirely welcome. The tall man in a deputy uniform stumbled and then fell as the boy, Carl, plowed into him screaming "Dad" at the top of his lungs. The woman, Lori, stood at the edge of the group, her mouth working soundlessly as she watched her back from the dead husband and her son untangle themselves.

Daryl watched the show with a half an eye, flicking a glance toward Shane Walsh, trying to gauge his reaction to this unexpected appearance. The man stood frozen, a smile tugging at his lips but his eyes looked lost and confused. He looked like he'd seen a damned ghost and from what Daryl had heard of the story, that's what the man, Rick, might as well be. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the situation, which had all the ear marks of a shit storm if things didn't play out just right.

The only person who watched the joyful reunion with less enthusiasm than Shane was Merle. His brother stood back from the rest, arms crossed over his chest and a frown pulling his brows together. Something glinted at his brother's wrists, something that looked suspiciously like handcuffs. Merle caught his eye and shook his head warningly. _Leave it alone, little brother. _Daryl shrugged, letting his attention wander back to the woman and the girl instead of wondering what had happened in Atlanta. Merle would tell him when he felt like it, or not. He'd learned a long time ago to stay the fuck out of his brother's business unless invited.

The two of them had been quiet for most of the evening, sticking close together despite the celebratory air that hung over the camp. The successful run into town combined with a bigger than usual dinner had set a mellow mood for everyone except the woman and her girl. He watched as the girl edged closer to her momma, her thin arms encircling the woman's waist as she buried her face in her shoulder. Carol rocked her gently, her lips moving soundlessly as she tucked the girl's head beneath her chin. It took him a minute to realize she was singing softly, rocking in time with the tune. His breath caught an unfamiliar knot in his throat as he watched them.

He was so caught up that he didn't notice his brother making his way over until Merle elbowed him hard in the side and motioned for him to follow. Daryl swallowed hard but trailed after his brother without a word. Anything else would be asking for a slap to the back of the head if he was lucky, or an ass kicking if he wasn't. He knew from experience that it was best to let Merle have his say. He had a good guess what this little talk was going to cover. Ed Peletier's hasty exit had been covered a couple of times already. Merle hadn't let on, merely lifting a brow when Shane revealed Daryl's part in helping Ed along. That didn't mean that he was going to let it go, just that he was biding his time. Dixons didn't stick their nose in where it didn't belong. He was about to be reminded of that fact in true Merle fashion.

"Thought I told you to keep your ass away from that bitch and her kid," Merle wasted little time once they were out of earshot of the others. "You trying to play hero, boy? Want to be a big man for a change, is that it?"

Daryl's stiffened avoiding his brother's accusing gaze as he stared off into the tree line. "Fucker deserved what he got," he returned gruffly. "Shane woulda done it if I hadn't. He knocked the shit out of her, bro."

Merle snorted under his breath. "And how's that your problem? You got a soft spot for her and think she's going to be grateful enough to let you get your dick wet? Woman like that, she don't want a scruffy piece of shit redneck, brother. You busted up your knuckles for nothing. Best to let Officer Friendly and his sidekick sort out the trash. Ain't nothing to us."

"I know it ain't my problem," Daryl grated out. "Ain't gonna stand by and let that little gal watch her momma get slapped around if I can help it. That fucker deserved what he got. He comes back and he'll wish he was dead before I'm done."

Merle backed him against a tree truck, his fist knotted in Daryl's shirt and his eyes burning. "You listen to what I'm telling you," Merle snarled. "She ain't your problem. She's not your blood. Leave them be, Daryl."

The rough surface of the bark bit into his back as he shifted in a futile attempt to loosen Merle's grip on his shirt. Anger flared up, hot and bright; as it moved him to do something he rarely did…defy his brother. "No," he bit out, shoving Merle's hands aside. His brother's eyes widened, looking at him like he'd never seen him before. "You heard me, asshole," he continued. "I said no. I don't get in your way so stay the hell out of mine."

Merle bit back a smile, holding up a placating hand. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Darylina. I'm just looking out for you. Leave it to your dumb ass to set your heart on a lost cause." He chuckled softly, ignoring the mulish expression on Daryl's face. "You want to play house with the mouse and her kit, don't let me stop you. She might even take to you for a while. Don't count on that holding out for long. She'll jump as soon as a better offer comes along. Maybe ole Merle will show her what a real man looks like."

Daryl shoved his brother into the tree, his arm braced across his throat before he even registered that he'd moved. "You don't fucking touch her," he spat. "She just got rid of one asshole. She don't need another one." Merle's muffled laughter jolted him out of his anger induced haze. He dropped his arm and took a hasty step back but his expression didn't change. "Leave them be," he ordered tonelessly.

Merle nodded silently and watched in amusement as Daryl gathered up his crossbow before disappearing into the dark. Little brother got a little hotheaded when it came to the woman and her girl. Merle didn't understand the fascination but now his curiosity had been kindled. He wouldn't touch but damned if he wouldn't keep his eyes open.

End ch. 5…..

A/N Apologies for the wait for this chapter. Season 4 has caused me angst so I've had a few other things catch my attention. Hopefully, this chapter didn't disappoint. As stated before, this story will be mostly canon compliant with some AU tweaks. Let me know what you think by leaving a review if it pleases you. I appreciate you taking time to read my stories.


	6. The Perfection of a Moment

Honorable Intentions

Chapter 6: The Perfection of a Moment

_"So I learned two things that night, and the next day, from him: the perfection of a moment, and the fleeting nature of it." ― Margaret George, The Memoirs Of Cleopatra_

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see the sky still dark though dawn wasn't far off judging by pink tinge wreathing the horizon. Steady warmth nestled against her back. Sophia's breathing was soft and light as she buried her face in her pillow. Carol stroked her hair gently before easing her way out of the tent, carrying her shoes with her. She uncoiled; muscles protesting furiously from a night spent sleeping on the hard ground.

"Well, well," a deep voice drawled mockingly. "Look who's finally up? Bout time, darlin. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to come in and get you." Merle Dixon's raucous laughter shattered the early morning quiet.

Inwardly, she cringed as the man's faded blue eyes crawled over her face and form, an appreciative quirk to his lips. She forced herself to meet his eyes and to keep her voice calm as she questioned, "What do you mean about time? It's not even dawn."

"Hell, little lady, it's long past time to be out and about. Baby bro's been on the trail for the better part of two hours. Even Walsh has made a couple of water runs by now." He smirked as her cheeks reddened. "Didn't take you for no lady of leisure."

Carol eyed him incredulously. She could barely make him out with the last few shadows still hanging heavily about the camp. Her temper flared, overcoming her well-honed sense of self-preservation. "Can't see why anything I do concerns you. If you'll excuse me, I need to get breakfast started. My daughter should be getting up soon." Her eyes rounded as what she'd done registered. A bolt of pure fear arced through her, petrified of what his reaction would be. She didn't know this man but she knew enough like him to expect what was coming.

He managed to surprise her as he threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Woo hoo," he chortled. "Looks like the little mouse has some teeth. That explains a lot, damn me if it don't. Don't fuss, sugar, ole Merle's just having a little fun." He shifted out of his crouch, towering over her as he straightened to his full height. "Darylina threw a fit about leaving you and the kid alone. Said that asshole husband of yours might sneak back and start shit with you. Told him I'd watch out and kick the fucker's ass if I caught sight of him."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cool morning air pebbled her skin. She'd never even considered that Ed might come back. He had been told in no uncertain terms what the consequences would be if he showed his face around camp. The man was a coward at heart. She couldn't believe that he would try anything unless he was doubly damned sure he could get away with it. The vague notion that he might still be around led her to eye the tree line. If he did come back, he would be out for blood, hers in particular, and a few punches wouldn't satisfy him.

"You go ahead and do what you need to do," the gentle tone belied every preconceived notion she had about Merle Dixon. She shied away, eyeing him warily as if looking for the trap. He held up his hands, fingers splayed to show that he meant no harm. "I told you, mouse, I promised my brother that I'd look after you and that's what I'm gonna do. That low-grade son of a bitch won't bother you, not while I'm still breathing. You can take that to the bank."

Carol felt something in her ease at his reassuring words. He meant it. She could see it in the taut lines of his face and the way his eyes stayed on her. He would keep her and Sophia safe because he said that he would. She never thought she'd see the day that Merle Dixon would be guarding her and she'd be happy about it. The world going to hell certainly made for strange bedfellows.

"Thank you," she murmured, ducking her head as she made her way toward the camp stove and the tin pot sitting beside it. "I'll have coffee ready in a minute."

"Take your time, darlin," he drawled. "I got all day."

A brief snort of laughter escaped her as she lit the burner and filled the pot from a plastic tote of water. Her hands moved surely as she plunked it down on the stove to bring it to a boil and put another pan on the edge to share the heat. Idle curiosity prompted the question before she lost her nerve. "What did you do, you know, before?"

He quirked a brow but let an arrogant smirk come to the fore. "We trading secrets now? How's this gonna work, mouse? You gonna give me tit for tat."

Carol straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. Could the man never be serious? She cursed herself for letting her tongue run away with her. The Dixons were something of an enigma to her, and had been since they followed Shane into camp. Both of them were equipped to survive on their own. Why they chose to hook up with the group was a mystery she couldn't unravel. Merle strutted about, brash and bold, like he owned the place. He was just as quick to offer a laugh as he was a punch to the face. Daryl, however, kept to himself, didn't make waves, and fed the camp with his seemingly endless hunting expeditions. The two brothers were two sides of a coin but now she could see it. They were more alike than first impressions showed, but when you looked again, there it was.

"I'm just trying to make conversation," she said softly. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

Her timid tone brought a swath of color to his cheeks. His eyes slitted and an ugly curve twisted his mouth into a harsh line. "Don't," he sneered. "Don't try that with me, sweetheart. I ain't some asshole that's gonna knock the shit out of you if you show a little sass. I like my women with a little kick."

"I'm not one of your women," she retorted smartly. "I just meant that you if you don't want to talk then don't. It won't hurt my feelings."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied her for a moment before nodding toward the stove, his face inscrutable. "Gonna burn that meat if you don't turn it. Squirrel cooks up faster than beef or chicken." She bent to the pan and forked the contents into a neat line, flipping them with one practiced flick of her wrist. She darted a glance toward him as he chuckled. "Fair enough. I won't tell you how to cook and you won't look at me like I'm the devil, okay?"

She smiled by way of reply before grabbing a mug, tossing in a scoop of instant coffee before pouring in the water. Merle watched as she stirred the mixture a few times before proffering the cup. "Okay," she returned with a brief nod. "I'm sorry."

"No need be sorry," Merle downed the coffee in one long pull, grimacing as he dropped the mug beside the crate she was using as a table. "That shit could peel paint. Couldn't stomach it before everything went to hell and still can't."

Carol laughed before she caught herself. She flushed at his answering grin. "I don't think anybody likes it but we're not exactly equipped for the gourmet stuff. There's water or coke in the cooler if you'd rather have that."

Merle waved her away as he settled on a nearby log. "I'm good," he announced. "Little brother should be back any time now. I'll wait on him then grab something. You just do whatever it is you do. Don't pay me no mind."

Carol opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. She grabbed the canister of rolled oats out of the crate and poured them into a pan with more of the boiling water. A hiss of annoyance escaped her when she realized there wasn't any sugar. Sophia wouldn't eat it unless it was sweet as syrup. She poked through the remaining supplies for a suitable substitute, only to jump a moment later when a plastic bear was shoved under her nose.

"Old man Dale had that stashed in the RV," Merle waved the bear in front of her. "Should work just fine. I couldn't get enough of the stuff as a kid. Got stung trying to rob a hive once. Little bastards swarmed before I could get down the tree. Must have hit every limb on the way down."

"I can see that," Carol took the honey and turned away before he caught her smile. "Bet you sucked eggs too."

"Careful there or I'll start thinking you're sweet on me," Merle boasted. "Don't try to figure ole Merle out. I don't even know why I do some of the shit I do."

She rolled her eyes before bending to give the oatmeal a last stir. She dipped out a goodly portion, poured a generous stream of honey over the mound, and handed him the bowl. "Eat," she ordered. "You must be hungry after all that talking. Never knew a man who liked the sound of own voice so much." He snorted out a laugh before wolfing down the oatmeal like he hadn't eaten in a week. "I don't think I've heard Daryl string more than three words together. You two are different, aren't you?"

Merle grimaced before taking another bite. He took the saucer of squirrel meat she handed him and set it on his knee. "He's the sweet one," he announced in between bites. "Never did say much even when he was a runt dogging my heels. Tried to make a man out of him but he went his own way." He eyed her with renewed interest. "You're awful concerned about my baby brother."

She shook her head hastily, dropping her eyes in the face of his knowing smile. "I was just making an observation. Don't take it for more than that." She heard scuffling footsteps and turned just in time to see Sophia making her way across the camp, a bedraggled doll tucked under one arm. "Come on, baby," she encouraged. "I've got breakfast ready. When you're done, we'll go down to the lake to clean up."

Sophia edged closer but her eyes drifted to the silently watching man just beyond her mother. To his credit, he didn't say anything, choosing instead to concentrate on finishing his meal. The girl sat down a short distance away and watched him in wary fascination. "Sophia," Carol admonished. "It's not polite to stare. Leave Mr. Dixon alone and eat your food." Sophia dropped her eyes to her bowl, stirring the warm cereal lazily as her gaze wandered back to Merle.

"I'm Sophia," she announced suddenly. Merle only nodded and continued to eat. "I've been helping Daryl with his hunting," she looked at him expectantly. "He said I was a natural. He even made me this." She pulled the sling shot out of her pocket and held it out for him to admire. "I'm not real good at it yet but I hit a squirrel yesterday."

"Good for you," Merle answered shortly, shooting her a brief glance. "Should know how to hunt. Won't go hungry that way."

She nodded enthusiastically and scooted closer. "I won't have to be afraid of the walkers either. I picked up plenty gravels yesterday. Daryl said they would do until he could get me some marbles. Those are the best, Daryl says. Do you think he'll be able to get them soon, Mr. Dixon? I need to practice."

Merle dropped his spoon into his bowl, looking at the chattering girl in wonder. "Ain't no wonder you're such a little thing. You never hush long enough to put food in your mouth." To Carol's utter amazement, he laughed quietly before rising with his empty dishes in hand. "Marbles, huh? Those work just fine if you can get hold of some. Ball bearings would be my pick cause they'd be easier to find. When Daryl gets back, we'll see if we can't round you up some, little bit."

"Little bit?" Sophia parroted. "Why'd you call me that?"

Merle surprised Carol yet again by putting his plate and bowl into the bucket of wash water she'd set aside to do the cleaning up once everybody had eaten. He answered almost absently as he made short work of cleaning up. "Cause you're a little bit of nothing that ain't as big as a minute. A good breeze would blow you away, gal. Eat and let that stop your mouth for a minute."

Sophia opened her mouth but stopped at Carol's warning look. She huffed in annoyance but started eating, grumbling under her breath with every other bite. She snuck a glance at the big man who, having finished washing up, had found a convenient tree trunk to lean against. His attention was fixed firmly on her mother who met him look for look. Intrigued, Sophia watched as the two stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to look away. Sophia's jaw dropped as her mother's lips tilted up at the edges. It wasn't a happy smile like she usually wore. She looked angry, mad enough to bite. It shocked the girl because she couldn't remember ever seeing her mama look that way.

"I don't give a damn about nobody in this world but my brother," Merle broke the stalemate. "I look out for him and make sure that he don't get in over his head. It's been that way since we was kids and that's how it's gonna be from now on."

Carol's voice was thin and strained as she replied tersely, "He's a grown man who's perfectly capable of deciding what he wants to do and who he wants to do it with. He chose to help Sophia. He chose to step in when Ed showed his true colors. I had nothing to do with any of it. I'm grateful for everything he's done for us, and I won't tell him to stop. My daughter needs to learn these things and he's willing to teach her. I'd be a fool not to take him up on it and I stopped being foolish a long time ago."

Merle's face hardened his blue eyes icy as he straightened abruptly. "You're barking up the wrong tree, missy. Dixons don't play house and we sure as fuck ain't nursemaids. There's nothing holding us here but the fact that we ain't got anything better to do right now. Don't get too attached, sweet cheeks. I'd hate to see you disappointed."

"Oh don't you worry," Carol drawled sweetly. "Like I said, I learned my lesson the hard way."

"Good," Merle's smile held more than a touch of warning. "Glad we understand each other." He tucked his hands into his back pockets and cut his eyes toward the tree line. "Looks like he had a good trip."

Carol turned just in time to see Daryl stride out of the trees with a decent sized doe slung across his shoulder. Before she could answer, Sophia was already thundering toward him, yelling excitedly. "Where did you find her? Was it hard to get a deer? Is that why you've been gone so long?" Carol watched as the man pulled up short, waiting until the girl was close before answering. He gave Sophia a twisted little half-smile, bending slightly so she could get a closer look at the doe. "Can I help you?" Sophia asked eagerly. Carol caught Merle's s dumbfounded look as Daryl nodded and motioned for her to follow. He paused briefly, looking to Carol and waited for her assent before striding off with Sophia chattering animatedly at his heels.

Carol bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She meant what she said about lessons learned. Ed had taught her not to take things at face value and she'd taken that to heart. She didn't know what to call the events of the past few days. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Sophia was happy and well. Everything else, even Merle Dixon's wrath, came in a distant second.

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Sophia looked on as Daryl hung the deer by its hind legs and started peeling off the hide. He worked swiftly wielding his knife as an extension of his arm. "That will keep us in meat for a while," she observed as she walked in a slow circle around the deer, examining it from every angle. He grunted in acknowledgement, his attention focused on his task. Sophia bit her lip, hesitant to broach the subject but her need to know outweighed her reluctance. "I think my mom and Merle were arguing," she confided. "I've never heard her talk that way. She was mad."

Daryl stopped, his eyes narrowed as he studied the girl. "What was they arguing about, Sophia?"

There it was…the right question but she didn't want to tell him because she didn't want him to make him mad. "I don't think he likes us very much. He told mama that she was barking up the wrong tree."

Daryl gaped before he caught himself. What the hell? "And what did your mama say?" He couldn't help but ask even though it sent brought an unwelcome heat to his face.

She looked him right in the eye as she unconsciously mimicked her mother's careful tones. "He's a grown man who's perfectly capable of deciding what he wants to do and who he wants to do it with." She gave a funny little shrug before looking at where her shoe traced a line in the dirt. "He looked mad when she said it. He said that Dixons ain't no nursemaids." Again, her voice changed, becoming rougher and with a slight drawl that thickened the words, making them curl at the ends. Her troubled gaze flicked up before darting away just as quickly. "He doesn't like you being around me and my mama. I don't understand. What did we ever do to him?"

He let out a long, low sigh as he bent back to the deer in a feeble attempt to buy some time. Fuck. Fuck the whole thing. He should have expected something like this when Merle volunteered to keep an eye on them so that he could go hunting. It was stupid of him to lose his shit when Merle goaded him about showing Carol what a real man looked like. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. "That's just Merle being Merle. Don't pay him no mind. You didn't do nothing to him."

"Well then that makes Merle an asshole," Sophia growled.

An unbidden huff of laughter escaped Daryl but he managed to keep his expression blank as he eyed the girl. "Shouldn't say stuff like that," he observed. "Your mama would have a fit."

"No she wouldn't," Sophia asserted. "Mama cusses when she thinks I can't hear her. Besides, she told me that I should always tell the truth no matter what. The truth is that Merle is an asshole."

He couldn't hold back the laughter this time so he didn't try. It felt good, damned if it didn't, to let loose for a change. Daryl laughed harder when the girl looked at him in stunned surprise. She gawked at him like she'd never seen him before and then let a tiny smile out. "Merle is a class A asshole," Daryl agreed, telltale signs of laughter still coloring his voice. "But he's my brother so that means he's gonna be around for a while. Think you can look over him if he starts acting stupid again?"

"I think he doesn't have to act too much," Sophia grumbled under her breath. "I'll be nice but he shouldn't have words with my mama. She's had to put up with enough of that from my dad. She don't need to hear it from him."

Daryl nodded slowly. "You're right," he sat down, facing her as he rested his arms on his upturned knees. "I'm sorry about that. He won't bother her again. I'll fix it." He inclined his head toward her to emphasize his intent. "I'll fix it," he repeated.

The girl's shoulders relaxed, a soft smile lighting up her face. "Better get back to that," she gestured toward the deer. "It'll be good to have for supper later on."

Daryl took it for what it was a compact of sorts to make the best of a bad situation and to move past it. He rolled to his feet and palmed his knife. "You got yours on you." He waited for her nod and then waved her over. "Come on then. It'll go faster with two of us."

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The mood in the camp was festive. The Harrison sisters took to the lake and came back with a stringer of bass and blue gill that rivaled the best catch he and Merle had ever landed. Carol and Jacqui took charge of the fish while Andrea and Amy cleaned up the reels, trading good-natured jibes with Dale about the state of his fishing equipment. When Daryl and Sophia appeared with thick cuts of venison, delighted shouts greeted them. Sophia proudly presented her part to her mother, babbling a mile a minute about the doe and how she'd helped.

He suffered their attention in silence, giving his usual noncommittal grunts and nods to the others well meaning thanks. He felt Merle's eyes on him, watching and weighing from his perch over by the RV. Daryl bit back the urge to toss the meat down without a word and take off. Instead, he walked slowly to the ad hoc kitchen and stood there until she looked up. She smiled warmly by way of greeting, reaching to take the haunch of meat from him. Their fingers met, an unfamiliar spark of awareness firing his nerves to a fever pitch. Her hands were cool, slight and strong despite their delicate appearance. His, rough and calloused from years of hunting, twitched at the brief contact, the tremor barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Carol's smile faltered but she immediately rebounded, brushing her thumb across the thin skin of his wrist before she turned away.

"Save some of it," he called after her. "We'll make up a run of jerky. It'll keep longer and we'll have rations when the canned goods start running short."

She spun toward him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's a good idea. I've made it before but always used an oven. Are we going to do this the old-fashioned way?"

He smirked, folding his arms across his chest to have something to do with his hands. "Unless Dale's got one of those tucked away in that RV, it'll have to be the old way. Just let me know when you're ready and I'll get the racks and stuff together." This time, he was the one that turned away first. It was hard enough to face her without the rest of the group eyeing them in interest. It was worse knowing that Merle was there, taking in every word and storing it up for later use. Daryl hazarded a glance in his brother's direction and wasn't surprised to find Merle staring back with an oddly blank expression. Daryl paused, expecting his brother to follow if only to drive the point home that he wouldn't tolerate Daryl's bullshit any longer. He watched as Merle's eyes flickered to the women and stayed, and couldn't help but follow his gaze.

Carol stood slightly apart, her attention clearly on the two brothers. Her chin lifted challengingly as she met Merle stare for stare. Her gaze shifted to Daryl and she smiled again, this one a replica of the one her daughter often sported. He felt his cheeks burn but couldn't look away. He didn't know what it was about this woman but she got to him in spite of himself. She saw him. She looked at him like he was a person worth knowing. He wasn't ready to let that go…not even if he had to put up with Merle's special brand of bullshit because of it. With that realization, he found himself smiling back and looking her right in the eye without a care about who might see it. He didn't care anymore. Fuck them if they didn't like it.

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The back road was largely clear with none of the traffic snarls that clogged the larger highways. He could have made good time had he done what that fucking cop and piece of shit redneck had told him to. Ed Peletier wasn't anybody's bitch. He did what he wanted and to hell with anybody who thought they could change that. He drove away from the quarry camp with only one thought in mind. He was going to show those two assholes what it meant to cross him and then he would take back what was his. That bitch would learn the hard way that she belonged to him. After he took care of business, he would get Carol and Sophia and head for Tennessee. He had family in Rutledge who would take them in.

Carol would come along willingly enough with the right bait. He planned his move as he cut cross-country to avoid the interstates and bigger roadways. After a couple of hours, he made the turn on to the rutted path that would take him to the quarry via a back way that only someone who grew up in the area would know about. It would be easy enough to sneak back in and bide his time until Dixon took Sophia out with him again. Either that or the Grimes boy would go off on his own and the girl would follow. That would give him the chance he needed. If she was with the redneck, Ed would take great pleasure in slitting the bastard's throat before taking the girl. If he caught the two kids on their own that was even better. He just had to be patient a little while longer.


End file.
